


heaven and hell were words to me

by katebishoop



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst, Drabble, F/M, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, based on the S3 trailer, the reuiniting hug, title from work song by hozier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-22
Updated: 2015-12-22
Packaged: 2018-05-08 08:37:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5490779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katebishoop/pseuds/katebishoop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Klark kom Skaikru, the Wanheda, the Commander of Death, was no more. The golden haired girl who fell from the sky and lit a forest ablaze and toppled the Mountain, was gone.</p><p>Clarke Griffin was just a legend now.</p><p>-<br/>Clarke's journey based on the Season 3 trailer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	heaven and hell were words to me

**Author's Note:**

> no grave can hold my body down

Her father used to tell her that heaven was a place on Earth.

Her father had been wrong.

* * *

 

They called her the Wanheda.

And, apparently, whoever killed the Wanheda would become super powerful and rule all. 

Self-imposed exile was proved difficult then, considering she was being hunted by every Grounder tribe.

Clarke wondered if Lexa was looking for her too (for what reasons, Clarke didn’t even dare think about).

Clarke had used some strongly colored red berries to dye her hair. She was the only blonde for all she knew. She had yet to see a blonde grounder, and the only other blondes who she had seen had been her of her people: Charlotte and Byrne.

But they were dead and gone.

And so was she.

Klark kom Skaikru, the Wanheda, the Commander of Death, was no more. The golden haired girl who fell from the sky and lit a forest ablaze and toppled the Mountain, was gone.

Clarke Griffin was just a legend now.

* * *

 

Clarke had tried to die.

She was tired of running and tired of fighting. She had nowhere where she could go.

(there was one place she could have gone, but she would rather have died then head back now)

(she almost had)

She had stopped eating. She nibbled on plants only to give her enough strength to hide from hunters. She wanted to die, sure, but she wasn’t going to give anyone else the satisfaction. She was done with being a part of wars.

One day, delirious from lack of food and water, she thought she’d just end it. She was standing a top of a waterfall, looking down at the swirling water thinking about how if she just jumped, it would be all over. She’d be free of guilt and war and these voices nagging her from the back of her mind. Her body would float away, and she’d always be a legend, this figure out in the woods that would be feared and hunted. And she’d fade into a myth, a story to tell children at night. It would be like she never really existed at all.

But she couldn’t do it. She just kept staring and staring at the water. It was that nagging voice that kept her back, reminding her of a promise she had made she had no idea now how long ago.

_may we meet again_

But that phrase is also said in death.

* * *

 

Clarke was confused when she woke on a bed of furs.

Niylah had come in and explained everything to her. This was her trading post, and while she was coming back from trading with another village, she found Clarke unconscious at the top of the waterfall.

Niylah knew who she was, but she didn’t treated her like a person. Not a pawn, not a leader.

Niylah challenged her, she questioned her. She helped her in figuring some things out. Clarke didn’t want to die. She wanted to live. She wanted to go home… eventually.

Niylah provided solace for a while.

But all good things come to an end, eventually.

* * *

 

Clarke was blonde again, and she wasn’t hiding anymore.

The depression that had plagued her was still present, but the rage she felt was more dominating. Brimming just under the surface, she was ready to lash  out at anything that got her in her way.

As evident by how she held her knife to Lexa’s throat.

* * *

 

Emerson was alive, but not for long.

She was going to kill the last of the Mountain Men.

Part of her said this was just, that if he hadn't been trying to force his way in, they may have had more time. They may have found another way.

Another part of her knew that even if he hadn't been there, it wouldn't have made a difference. This part told her to let it go, let him live. She should leave one of them alive, so she would never be able to say she killed them all. She didn't need any more blood on her hands. She didnt need to make another mark on her body. There were plenty.

But Emerson was out to get her - he was then and he was now.

She was the Commander of Death, after all, and his time had come.

* * *

 

She had thought she lost Emerson in this maze of a compound that reminded her too much of Mount Weather, but she heard footsteps running, echoing in the hall.

Shortly after she had left, she had buried the gun she had brought with her. She didn't want it. She dug it up for this moment; one last bullet for the last of the Mountain.

She was resigned, she was a fury, a hurricane on a war path, she turned the corner and lifted her gun-

It couldn't be.

_may we meet again_

She vaguely registered Octavia and another girl she didn't recognized before her vision tunneled around him. They both threw their guns down and they were charging each other.

Slamming around him in a hug was the most _real_ thing that happened in months. 

_Bellamy._

_Bellamy Bellamy Bellamy Bellamy._

He was a alive and he was here and he was holding her and she hadn't felt more at home - more at peace, despite everything - since she had broke away from this exacct position over three months ago now.

She could feel wetness from his face touch hers, and he was shaking in her grasp. She tucked her face into his shoulder and squeezed tighter.

_may we meet again_

Clarke felt like she was frozen in time. The pieces of her heart were slowly creeping back together. She tried to put so much into that embrace: hope, and happiness, and _I'm sorry_ and _I've missed you_ and _I'm sorry_ again.

Bellamy was here; she was with Bellamy. 

She had feared this, had feared seeing him again. What would he think? Would he even want to see her? But there he was, his arms wrapped tight around her, his hand in her hair. Clarke had refused to think explictially about the reasons she decided not to give up, but now. _This_. Bellamy. He was one of the reasons, high on the list, why she crawled out of that fog.

She knew the fight wasn't over yet; there was still the Ice Nation and Emerson and Roan to deal with. But for a moment that felt like forever, she wasn't worried. She had him. He was a constant in this changing world. They'd do what they do best; and they'd do it together.

_Together._

And Clarke would believe that, until she realized just how much things have changed.

* * *

 

Heaven was not a place on Earth; it was a person.

And he was with her, again.

For now.

**Author's Note:**

> This came from listening to Work Song by Hozier on repeat and watching the trailer several dozen times. I was trying to get out of my block with unfinished stories but this happened.
> 
> I have a lot of feelings okay and they bubbled over into this unedited drabble  
> -  
> come hang out over on [tumblr](http://bellakeyblake.tumblr.com)!


End file.
